


Caught by Flames

by HoneyBeeBumble



Category: BnHA, Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia, mha
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBeeBumble/pseuds/HoneyBeeBumble
Summary: Life, was good. At least you thought so, before today that is.
Relationships: dabi x reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 103





	Caught by Flames

Flames.

Flames as far as the eye could see. The town square was ablaze in a shower of orange and red. Smoke blotted out the sun, leaving your once peaceful settlement draped in the choking darkness. The screams of your neighbors filled the air, mixing with the clash of iron and rumble of burning homes and businesses. 

Your town was seated on a small, temperate island. The ports were always bustling with new travelers and explorers. The shops were always open, windows filled with homemade goods. Carriages frequented the cobble streets, there were always people roaming shop to shop. The women would wander about in their fancy hats and dresses, gossiping. Men would be out completing errands, farmers would stop to sell their produce…

Now they’re all dying.

Cannon fire echoed from the port. A lone ship had sailed in from Gods know where, guns blazing and cannonades ready.

The infamous ship of the damned; The Black Hand. An obsidian ship with sails as black as night; an ebony skeleton with its head thrown back, guzzling whatever was in the pulcinella it held over its head, took the bow as their figure head.The ship had made a notorious name for itself in the decades it sailed. No matter what captain took leadership, the sea always ran with blood in their wake. It’s current captain was no exception.

He had earned himself the title Hand of Searis by those few who survived his plunders. True to the name of the God of Fire, he set a firestorm upon any town or village he saw fit, burning all he crossed to ash.

That same ship had sent cannonballs into your town, had set your home ablaze while you were in it.

Coughing violently as smoke and ash flooded your lungs, you desperately flew to the second floor as fire consumed your home. Debris had cut off all your exits from the bottom floor, leaving you no other choice but to take the stairs.

Your home groaned and creaked around you, screaming for release. Tearing a piece from your apron, you held it to your face to block out the burning smoke. The only room that hadn’t been walled off by flames led to the balcony. Your only option was the roof of your neighbors, which fortunately wasn’t far from the railings.

Hoisting up your tattered commoners dress, you prepared yourself to jump. Two stories lie between you and the ground, a good couple of feet between you and your neighbor’s roof. If you fell, you may not be able to get back up…  
The crash of a beam behind you solidified your resolve. It was either jump and possibly die or burn to ashes with your home. With your feet planted firmly on the railing, you steadied yourself. Mustering the rest of your courage and strength, you lept from the balcony of your former home.

You hit the side of the roof with a grunt, your midsection colliding harshly with the gutters. Your fingers scrambled for purchase on the slated shingles, the rough texture scraping your palms and face. After a few panicked moments, the pads of your fingers caught on a decent edge, allowing you to hoist yourself up. You took a moment to catch your breath, hunched over on all fours. But you knew you couldn’t stay long. The stray sparks and embers were already flying too close to your refuge for comfort. 

Standing on shaky legs, you hurried carefully across the roof. On the opposite side of the building was an inn, where another balcony was located. With your height advantage, you could land safely and make your way down from there. 

You landed roughly onto the inn’s balcony. The force of the fall caused you to wheeze for a moment. It took a great effort to urge yourself back up, even more so to stumble past the threshold of the guest room. The door flung open into an empty hallway, any guests had long since been evacuated. You ran to the stairs at the end of the corridor, bolting down to the main floor. It was too late to retreat once your feet hit the last steps. From behind the bar, three ragged, bloodied men swiveled away from their stolen drinks to face you.

They all had beards of varying lengths. Each of them had a bottle of something in each hand. More empty bottles littered the bar top. Their pistols still lie in their holsters…

The four of you stared each other down from across the main floor. You feared they would gun you down the moment you lifted a finger…

One of them tipped, falling over on his back in a moment of drunken panic. You took his distraction to bolt for the door, the other two too drunk to properly pull their pistols and swords. A bullet lodged itself in the door frame as you exited, causing you to yelp as you took off down the burning street.

Women and children were fleeing, screaming and crying as their husbands, brothers and fathers were cut down in the road. Other unlucky souls were pulled into empty shops or alleyways by marauders hoping to get a quick fix. And yet you found yourself running in the opposite direction of the forest where your fellow townspeople were taking refuge. Instead you sprinted towards the port, where your family’s flower shop lies on the first street visible from the docks. Your parents had left you at home for the day, deciding you needed a rest after working so hard for them in the shop. They would be the closest to where the cannon fire first struck…

It seemed as though your heart fell to pieces the moment you spotted your beloved shop in ruins. It had managed to escape the flames, but fell victim to the obsidian cannons on the deck of the cursed ship anchored in the middle of the harbor. The roof had all but collapsed on top of your once vibrant nursery. What flowers you could see from the shattered and splintered window frames had all wilted and died from the abuse. 

“Mother!” You cried hysterically. “Father!”

All that greeted you was the clash of steel and echo of gunshots, screams and the roar of flames. Nothing from your families shop. 

You flung yourself onto the debris blocking the doorway. Wood chips scraped at your already abused and bleeding palms, but the only thing you cared about at that moment was the whereabouts of your parents. Once the door was mostly freed, you pressed yourself against it’s battered surface. The hinges protested against further abuse, screeching horribly against one another. With a final push, the door opened enough to let your small frame through.

The center of the store had been decimated by fallen beams and wooden framing, flower petals littered the floor. In the middle of it all were your mother and father, crushed under the roof of your poor little flower shop. Your father held the lifeless body of your mother against his still chest, as if he had tried to shield her from harm. Half of their bodies lay hidden under the rubble, blood pooled beneath the two in the form of a sickening blanket. 

Staggering towards their lifeless embrace, you fell to your knees amidst the petals and carnage. You could no longer find it in you to scream, nor wail. All you could manage were the tears that fell from your shell-shocked irises. 

Your parents were dead. Your friends lay dead on the streets, your home burned, your shop destroyed. Your poor flowers…

Yet the world still refused to allow you rest.

“There’s the little escape artist, I had wondered where you’d run off too.”

Your trembling halted at the sound of an unfamiliar, raspy voice. Slowly, your aching body turned towards the source, eyes finding the man who may be fire incarnate. 

Vibrant, piercing electric blue orbs stared you down. His hair was jet black and, much like the stories; his skin was in patchwork burns, covered head to toe in piercings, staples and stitches. Atop his head was a prussian blue strip of fabric, the only source of color in his attire, that kept most of his hair from falling into his eyes. A worn black trench coat sat over his low cut shirt, which exposed the burns that littered his chest.

The Captain of the Damned himself stood before you, eyeing you like a predator his prey. Those cold ocean eyes observing every little inch of your tattered form. 

“I saw you jumpin’ from the rooftops like a mad woman. I admit, I’m impressed,” He chuckled, taking a step in your direction. 

“Stay back!” You were on your feet in an instant, backing towards the debris that lay atop your parents. He merely paused.

“What's the matter, little dove? Never seen a pirate before?” His deep voice taunted you as he continued his course. Slow, deliberate footsteps sauntered toward you. “I wouldn't be surprised. If I were any other Capn’, I’d left this place to the damn militia guardin’ it. Course, it’s rather lucky they’re absent today, wouldn’t you agree?”

The one week the Navy was called away was the day the most notorious ship just happened to be near. In some cruel twist of fate, your once peaceful and vibrant town was reduced to embers and corpses. Though, even if they were here, your certain it wouldn’t have stopped The Black Hand’s course. 

His encroaching form spurred you back to life. You cast a glance behind you, desperately trying to find an escape route. Forward wasn’t an option, not with the literal embodiment of flames blocking the entrance. Thankfully, the back door was mostly free of rubble, yet that meant he could fit too…

“I wouldn’t try it, doll. It’d be much easier for us both if you gave me what I came for,” he growled. Your attention returned to his form, a pleased smirk reappearing on his scarred face. “Good girl, just keep those pretty eyes on me and we won’t have any trouble…”

Immediately you spun around on your heel and darted towards the back door. You heard a gruff curse behind you before heavy thuds followed you. The back door, thankfully unlocked and unblocked, swung open easily. In your haste, you slid into the wall of the building next to your mangled shop. You ran towards the alley’s exit, the opening just within your reach-

A wall of blue hellfire sprung forth from the ground, casting the alleyway in an eerie blue glow. The heat licked at your face as you screeched, stumbling to a halt. Your following screams were muffled by a large, calloused hand as you were slammed against the stone wall. Blue eyes bore cinders into your own as he pressed himself against your shuttering form. His other hand pressed against the cool surface of the wall besides your head, effectively blocking you in. 

“C’mon doll, did ya really think that’d work?” He huffed, displeasure seeping from his posture. “While I love your spark, that was an awfully stupid thing to do.”

The hand that muffled your protests fell to your neck, squeezing it’s fragile shape easily. His displeasure soon turned feral, lips pulled back in a grin. His eyes wandered your features, seemingly admiring what he’d caught.

“It’s about damn time. I’d been watin’ to get my hands on you ever since I saw you in that lil’ shop. It might’ve only been a day, but I've never been a patient man.”

Your eyes widened. A day? You’d never seen this man before you in your life! However, one event from the day prior suddenly seemed clearer. You had been working with your parents in the flower shop as usual, finishing up orders and greeting regulars as they browsed the new seasonal flora. You were in the middle of rearranging the main window display when a figure on the street caught your eye. They were covered in a black cloak, hood pulled up over their head and a scarf wrapped over their face. Yet you could still see striking blue eyes, the same eyes that now leered down at you. Your parents directed you away from the window fairly quickly, keeping you hard at work in the back room the rest of the day. Had they seen him staring? Is that why they wanted you to stay at home?

His smile widened as recognition sparked across your gaze. His thumb moved to pet your jaw, the hand against the wall now twirling your hair in between his fingers. 

“Aw, you do remember lil’ ol’ me? I’m touched,” his breath fanned your face as he chuckled darkly. “I was gonin’ to leave this town of yours alone, till I saw the sweet little hummingbird it’d been hidin’. I couldn’t leave without the greatest treasure this rock has to offer.” 

His free hand began to wander, trailing down your side, griping and pawing as he pleased. His grip on your neck tightened when you began to whimper and squirm, the unfamiliar feeling giving rise to panic. 

“C’mon lass, never had a man touch you like this?” He purred, lips brushing your ear. “Good, I'd've killed em’ anyway.” 

His tongue darted out to run across your ear, shivers went down your spine. 

“F-fuck you…” You wheezed. He pulled back, shocked smile and wide eyes.

“Easy princess, where’d a city lass like you learn such language?” You were practically gasping for air now, his hold on your neck becoming brutal. He’d no doubt leave marks, if you’d be alive to see them. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to sort out your _behavior.”_

Then everything went black.

When you awoke, you laid in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. The space occasionally rocked and shifted slightly, leading you to realize you were on a ship. When you moved to stand, the clinking of metal brought your attention to the cuffs chaining you to the bed. Your tattered commoners dress had been removed, only your undergarments remained. 

You winced as you shifted, your collar bone aching in a strange unfamiliar way. Running your fingers over the area proved to be too painful.

“Bout’ damn time, princess. I was beginin’ to worry I’d killed ya.”

Your head shot up, the door to the room opened while you were inspecting your wound. The Captain of the Damned stood in the door frame, his trench coat nowhere to be seen. Over his shoulder you could see what looked to be some kind of an office. It seemed he was keeping you in his quarters. 

“What the hell did you do to me?” You hissed, anger blazing even as he stalked closer.

“Relax, I just gave you a lil’ somethin’ so people know you’re taken. Ain’t I allowed to mark what's mine?” As he spoke, he held up a small mirror for you to see what he was referring to. On your collarbone was his name, scorched into your skin.

_**Dabi.** _

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a second part!


End file.
